


Chances (or: five times the apocalypse got in the way, and one time it didn't)

by Ellislash (MintSharpie)



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M, Romance, Survival, Zombies, five things meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSharpie/pseuds/Ellislash





	Chances (or: five times the apocalypse got in the way, and one time it didn't)

1

Spitter goo forced them to scatter, two darting around each side of the building as they scrambled for the saferoom beyond. Coach and Rochelle made it handily. Ellis tripped.

“Shit, kid, come on, get up…!” Nick panted, clasping the mechanic’s wrist and hauling him off the ground. Ellis found his feet in seconds, levering upright and nearly stumbling straight into the conman’s arms.

Time froze. Their faces were separated by inches. Their eyes flickered to each other’s mouths, hot breath ghosting between slightly parted lips…

Then a hunter screamed, and the spell was broken. They jumped apart as though electrified and sprinted to safety, hearts beating rather faster than normal.

* * *

 

2

The charger had carried him a long way, and now he couldn’t get up. Ellis keened desperately as he dragged Nick to safety. Coach defended them; Rochelle opened the door of an abandoned house and herded them all inside.

There wasn’t anything they could do about Nick’s injuries. He lay unconscious on the ground, ribs probably cracked, head definitely ringing. Ellis paced back and forth, agitated, feeling helpless. The conman looked very vulnerable all alone on the floor, and Ellis sank to his knees beside him. His slick black hair glistened invitingly.

“We gotta cover the doors, y’all,” Coach said solemnly. “This ain’t no safehouse.”

The young southerner gave Nick one more aching glance, and went to barricade the back.

* * *

 

3

They hadn’t slept in days. All four of them were in rough shape, but Ellis was the worst. His feet dragged and his reflexes degraded, and soon his condition was too much of a problem to ignore. He impaled himself with shot after shot of adrenaline, but at last simply couldn’t go any farther. They stumbled wearily to the nearest defensible building. It was full of infected and they had to clear it out before they could rest. They managed it, barely.

Well… three of them did.

Ellis’ gun jammed and he was too worn-out to swing his bat. He went down under a pile of zombies, screaming weakly as they battered and scratched him. Nick heard, and his heart skipped a beat. He came charging to the rescue, tiredness taking a backseat to sheer rage. His machete slashed desperately, mowing down attackers until he could pull Ellis from the fray.

The mechanic was bloody and beaten, and Nick wanted nothing more than to comfort him. His grip tightened on Ellis’ arm, pulling gently, exhausted eyes fixed on his face –

Another wave of zombies crashed upon them, and the moment was lost.

* * *

 

4

When Nick went down, something in Ellis snapped. The hunter had barely enough time to tear into the blue silk shirt before the mechanic caved in its skull with a bass guitar. His attack was so vicious that the mutated zombie was thrown several feet away, giving Nick enough room to get back on his feet.

“Holy shit, kid,” he rasped, feeling his own blood seep from a half-dozen shallow lacerations.

Ellis panted, restraining the wild power surging through his arms. When the red haze faded he shook his head vigorously and reached for his medpack.

“Hold on, now, lemme patch ya up,” he murmured, calloused hands gentle on Nick’s chest. He layered gauze over the wounds and secured it with tape, lingering just a moment too long on the conman’s skin. His breath hitched in his throat.

“ _TANK_!” came Rochelle’s frantic cry, and they had to run.

* * *

 

5

This was it.

The bridge was bombed out, barely stable, and absolutely crawling with zombies, but their angels waited on the other side. If they could make it across, they’d escape this hell; whatever came next, they’d be free.

The final safehouse was well-stocked with weapons and medical supplies. They prepared quietly, each consumed in their own thoughts, sharpening blades and reloading guns while they readied themselves for one last battle.

Coach was sober as always, trying not to get excited. He had to treat this run like any other, or intense emotions would cloud his judgment and lower their odds.

Rochelle couldn’t help being hopeful. She’d stayed stubbornly optimistic throughout this whole ordeal, and now that the end was in sight her stomach fluttered eagerly.

Ellis was scared. Under his hyperactive, cheery façade lay a growing dread, the fear that they’d blow it at the last second. It showed in the pinch at the corners of his eyes and the waver in his nervous smile.

Nick, always the pessimist, struggled to find the words to a prayer he hadn’t said in years. He fully expected to die, but by god, he would go down fighting. A tense feeling closed around his throat, knowing this was his last chance to say or do anything that mattered.

The younger men locked eyes with longing on their faces. They recognized it in each other, shifted closer, started to reach out –

Coach opened the door.

* * *

 

6

They made it.

After fifteen frantic, bloody, terror-filled minutes they leaped into the chopper together. It rose into the air to the roar of tanks and explosion of bombs, but the sweetest sound of all was the steel door slamming shut behind them. They were airborne, they were leaving, they were _alive_. It was nearly impossible to believe.

At first they lay stunned, adrenaline still surging, limbs screaming, breath coming hard. Nick and Ellis, collapsed on the floor with barely a foot of space between them, rolled their heads to look at each other. In unison they sat up, hearts pounding, eyes hard with determination and desire. Nothing would stop them now.

They drew themselves together. One of Ellis’ trembling hands came to rest on Nick’s waist while the other cradled his face. Nick mirrored the touch, sliding in, bringing their bodies flush; their lips were so close, moving so slowly, they’d meet in three seconds, they could see each other’s longing –

– two, they could almost taste each other –

– one, they could feel the heat...

... _Zero_.


End file.
